waltz

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ok, i'm being abstract. besides, i haven't introduced myself. this is a fucking blog, not a book of haikú. i am young (not really that young anymore), gifted (moderately) and queer (despite myself). i think the world is going to crap. its not life itself that sucks, its how we decide to carry on with it, a problem of manner, of style. i have a boyfriend of two years who's just cute as a button, but i'm growning tired of his cuteness. yes, there is a third character involved. the fruit of temptation. a french cheff who i'm obsessed with. he's got blue eyes, a sexy little beard, and a collection of hipster hats that fit him just right. he has the deepest baddest turn-me-on stare i've seen in a long time, the ones that go straight through your nuts into your heart, making you feel you're a 14-year-old girl from wisconsin.

and here, you see, is my dilemma.

when

i can't say, when it was i stopped loving you. i don't know if i have. its like wanting to quit smoking. in theory i have, but in practice i haven't. like i've quit smoking but still smoke one or two fags every now and then, i've quit loving you, but i still get love spills every once in a while. i don't think its enough. is it enough? are we at the butt of our love? have we totally burned out? is it just the taste of each other in our mouths? ashes? craving?

s.t.

down the path
horse blinded
on the sides
what we say
love
is like a sap
bugs get stuck on
trees
and frost
and dry
and petrify
in the warm
honeylike